


Suspended Surrender

by beastlybat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Blood Drinking, Cas!Lucifer, Demon Blood, F/M, Kinda M/M/F, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 11, well maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlybat/pseuds/beastlybat
Summary: Set in Season 11 when Lucifer is taking a ride inside of Castiel. The temptation to play with his one-true-vessel while Sam's guard is down is too great to pass up. Features Ruby/Sam. It's in a dream sequence, but it is explicit and does last most of the fic's duration.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Ruby/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56
Collections: SPN Lucifer Bingo





	Suspended Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of non-con to be found here. Read responsibly. If it isn't your cup of tea, turn around now. Fulfills the Cas!Lucifer square for my SPN Lucifer Bingo card. And like all of my stories, this was beta'd by my wonderful wife so if there's an error, it's all her fault don't look at me! You can find me on Tumblr at beastlybat.

It was incredibly stupid. _Staying_. The more time he lingered in this hunk of cement, the more likely it was that one of the Winchesters would notice something was off with their feathered lapdog—not to mention how tiresome it was to play the part. Dean was always trying to get him alone and if he had to make puppy eyes at the dolt one more time, he was going to vaporize himself and save them all the trouble. But the bunker presented such a delectable opportunity to observe Sam in his natural habitat and denying himself temptations had never really been Lucifer's shtick. So, he endured.

However, the longer he stayed, the harder Lucifer wanted to push. As soon as the Winchesters found out that Castiel had said 'yes', he'd have them at his heels, and he wasn't ready to give up this vessel just yet. He needed more time.

Lucifer took care to maintain a stoic expression, holding back a grin as he resolved to leave the next day and make the most of his last night there. Not long after, the boys told him goodnight and left him in the kitchen with Sam's laptop. What Castiel found so fascinating about these infernal tv dramas, Lucifer didn't know, nor did he want to know. Castiel's little obsession was incredibly convenient. He'd give him that. Lucifer was free to stare blankly at the screen, letting his mind wander to more productive matters without looking suspicious. 

He mirrored their 'goodnight's, tight-lipped, voice like gravel. 

Lucifer couldn't rush his plan, had to wait for enough time to pass to ensure that both brothers were deep asleep before he could anything into action. He settled in, dropping the Castiel posturing, shoulders slumping forward as he dug through the files on the laptop. Idly pressing the pads of borrowed fingers against severely chapped lips, Lucifer huffed out a dejected sigh when he realized that the browser history had been wiped recently.

Nearly four hours later and Lucifer couldn't stand it any longer.

Castiel was still holed up in the recesses of their shared unconscious. Seemed to Lucifer that Castiel had needed to say 'yes' more than Lucifer had need him to. He'd been willfully hiding ever since. Some fierce soldier. But it served Lucifer's purpose, so he hadn't felt the urge to needle the other angel. Castiel’s chosen ignorance only meant that Lucifer wouldn't be interrupted and that promise pulled his mouth into a cheshire grin as he crept down the hallway toward Sam's bedroom. 

He was careful not to make a sound as he pushed the door open, knowing how easily a hunter's hairbreadth instincts could be triggered. Eyes glowed red in the darkness of the utilitarian room as Lucifer cast out the smallest bit of Grace to keep his prey firmly in his R.E.M. cycle. As much fun as it would be to watch Sam shocked awake under his ministrations—and _oh,_ it would be fun, just the thought had him half hard—he needed to protect his cover. Couldn't have Sammy getting suspicious, now could he? 

A snap of his fingers and the blanket was flung aside, Sam's clothing removed. Lucifer's eyes grew brighter, trying to enter Sam's dreams but something blocked him. A deep intake of air to calm his rage as Lucifer's gaze tried to find the roadblock to his obtrusion. Aha! A sigil on the wall, mostly hidden by pillows. _Smart_. 

Lucifer had proven that he was able to mess with Sam through his dreams before his jail break, and Sam still thought he was in the cage after-all. Of course, he'd tried to ward Lucifer out, cut off their one form of communication. Lucifer wasn't sure if he was more proud or annoyed.... 

A flick of his wrist and a line of the carefully laid paint was scratched aside, clearing the way for Lucifer to surge in and manipulate the horribly mundane dream his true vessel was clinging too. Colors swirled, images warped under Lucifer's control as he slipped off the cumbersome overcoat Castiel insisted on wearing day in and day out. Someone ought to buy the boy a bigger wardrobe.

" _Sam_ ," A breathy sigh in his ear. Ruby's voice. Hands gripping at the sweat slicked strands of Sam's hair. 

Lucifer hummed his approval at how beautifully Sam's mind adapted seamlessly to the change of scenery, continuing to piston into the demon without so much as a stutter. 

He'd made his way onto the bed now, positioned himself between the thighs of Sam's sleeping body, hands taking hold of the boy's hips with a bruising grip and soft growl at the sight of Sam so full of raw brutality and want. If only that pesky self-loathing wasn't there...Alas, Lucifer was hardly a miracle worker and he didn't exactly have time for a long-term project at the moment.

He released his hold on the boy's hips in favor of adopting a gentler touch. Fingertips brushed over the deep cut lines of Sam's muscular torso idly as Lucifer admired how peaceful his true vessel looked as he slept. He eased Castiel's body down, still covered by his favored tacky cheap suit, so that he and Sam were slotted together. Experimentally he rocked his hips and groaned into the crook of Sam's neck, feeling a vein jump against the vibration.

Lucifer let the dream-memory play out without further warping, choosing instead to focus on the expanse of his true vessel's body. Lucifer might not have all the time in the world, but he was determined not to rush. Who knew how long it'd be before he got this kind of opportunity again since Sam was so fond of their game of cat and mouse?

Ruby's legs were wrapped around Sam, heels pressing into the back of his thighs, dragging him in deeper and using the momentum to meet his hips and push up against him. The relentless sound of skin slapping was downright obscene.

She let go of Sam's shoulders, falling back against the motel bed, spine arching at an angle that caused the fresh blood pooling inside the dip of her collarbone to cascade down.

The commandeered tongue of his current vessel darted out to tease at one of Sam's nipples as his dreamland counterpart dived to catch the dark ringlets of demon blood running down Ruby's breast and Lucifer delighted in the responding shiver that wracked through Sam's sleeping body.

With some manhandling, Lucifer managed to mirror the scratches the demon tore into Sam's back, admiring the way the muscles ripple in the dream in contrast to how they tremble and twitch beneath his own hands.

As much fun as Lucifer is having, he _wants more_ , _needs more_ from Sam than a tired rerun.

Sam's got the demon's hands pinned to the bed above her head as she fills the room with a symphony of whines and shallow pants. So when Lucifer decides to meddle and places his own hand on dreamland Sam's shoulder blade to trace one set of angry red scratches, Sam's unconscious startles at the dissonance it creates.

The gentle caress of his Grace keeps Sam from pulling himself out of the dream, keeps things hazy, keeps him from questioning too hard. When Sam starts to crane his neck to see who the hand belongs to, he adopts Nick's visage under the assumption that Sam's unconscious would have rendered him that way on its own. He's quick to shove Sam's face back down to the demon's open wound, not giving him time to think, keeping the focus instead on sensations. For all his speed, Lucifer doesn't miss the flash of black eyes Sam sports and groans at the implications, pressing close to the boy's back, teeth clamping down onto his shoulder. He isn't sure if his bite or the demon blood is responsible for Sam's rumbling groan that seems to reverberate throughout the room.

Either way the sound sends a thrill through him and back in the bunker, in Sam's room, Lucifer's set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips and sliding his vessel's cock against Sam's, mouthing at every part of Sam he can easily reach.

Sam's hand twists in Ruby's hair, tugging none too gently. The demon moan's Sam's name in encouragement and Lucifer _knows_ the bitch is already dead in every way that counts, but damnit he covets what is his and, sure, jealousy is a sin, but _fuck_ if he isn't the original sinner!

Lucifer continues to use the capricious nature of dreams to his advantage, his hand grabbing roughly at the back of Sam's neck. The girl is gone but her blood still coats Sam's lips as Lucifer twists his head back so that he can kiss Sam roughly. Lucifer's teeth nip at his bottom lip aggressively enough to draw fresh blood to mix with Ruby's. He groans open-mouthed and just barely manages to suppress the same moan back in the bunker as he swipes over the crimson bead, metallic twang bursting over Castiel's tongue. 

He needs more, needs it now. His whole being is humming and the restraint it is taking to keep his Grace in control while he is in this state is a feat on its own, but on top of that he has to be careful to maintain the reigns he holds over Sam's mind while not holding on too tightly or he's at risk of doing irreparable damage. The lights in the dream room flicker in warning and he can only hope the bunker's electricity didn't surge with it. While he had meant to draw this out and truly revel in it, Lucifer finds himself changing the plan.

Sam's face is suddenly pressed into the motel's mattress with such force that the springs creak in protest, Lucifer's— _well_ , a mirage of Nick's—fingers push into Sam's snarling mouth and the velveteen tongue that slides over the offending digits has Lucifer snapping his hips against Sam's ass. 

Lucifer _aches_ to be inside Sam. He's carried that ache around ever since the moment Sam said 'yes' during apocalypse 1.0 and while this might not be exactly what that ache needs to be satiated, he's happy to take it. 

He thanks dream-logic once more as he tears his fingers from the boy's mouth and slams into him, jerking Sam's hips back with a grip so tight that blunt fingernails are already leaving behind half-moon shaped impressions. 

Words begin to fall from Lucifer's mouth and he's babbling, overcome with lust and on the cusp of breaking from the concentration required to keep his Grace under control. He's full of praises and promises; reassurances that even the cage could never keep him from Sam. And fuck if Sam isn't blasphemously handsome like this. If for no other reason than this vessel, perhaps he should give his Father more credit, but then again it was probably by His design that Lucifer couldn't have Sam like this during his waking hours: so full of rage and want, thrumming with power from the consumption of demon blood. But what he couldn't have wasn't important. Not right now. Now was a time for communion. For his Grace to wrap around Sam's soul, to fill him. For Lucifer to feel truly connected to something, someone. For their thoughts, desires to meld. To become whole for the briefest second in time.

He is pulled from the dream as he feels Sam's release teeter on the edge and as it spills over, Lucifer's grip moves from his hips to Sam's rib-cage. One hand settles tightly over Sam's mouth as the room fills with blinding light and Sam's spine arcs at an unnatural angle off the bed. Lucifer shakes with the effort, having to pull on some of Castiel's grace in order to complete his goal while still placating Castiel into blissful ignorance and keep Sam from waking despite the searing pain Lucifer was inflicting. 

When he had finished successfully altering the Enochian carvings covering Sam's ribs so that Lucifer was an exception to the rule, he was quick to right things to how they'd been before he arrived. He erased any sign that he had been there, going so far as to fix the sigil on the wall. He had to be sure Sam would have no reason to suspect what had really happened tonight. To Sam, he was still in the cage. The sigil was faulty. All the dusty books the bunker held, they couldn't all be winners, could they?

Lucifer shrugged back on Castiel's coat and took one more selfish moment to watch Sam sleep before bending down to cover him back up with the blanket. A kiss from chapped lips pressed to his true vessel's forehead and he quietly retreated, no one the wiser. 

He noticed the way Sam avoided his and Dean's eyes the next morning with glee and as he'd promised, he'd left before noon. Hell needed him. 


End file.
